


let me fix your nails

by cultjoon



Category: the GazettE
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Random & Short, it is really cute though, it's cute though, the ending leaves a bit to be desired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 01:06:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15108575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cultjoon/pseuds/cultjoon
Summary: Aoi doesn't paint his nails, Uruha does. more than a little cuteness ensues.





	let me fix your nails

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys, this is a short little thing I wrote because the heatwave where I live is preventing me from actually sleeping. It's supposed to be really hot and humid for like, the next week or something, so expect more short little drabbly fics like this. Happy Reading!

“Can you sit the fuck still?”   
Aoi frowns. “I thought i was?”  
“Think again.” Uruha says, only half-teasing. If it was anyone else, Aoi would probably get upset.   
He knew Uruha had no idea why the only thing Aoi didn’t really bother with was painting his nails. Uruha had asked him countless times, and he never had any answer.   
“You spend how long doing your hair, but you can’t be bothered to fix your chipped polish?” was a common gripe from him. Aoi couldn’t exactly argue with him there. He wasn’t sure why, but fixing chipped nail polish wasn’t high on his priority list. Depending on how lenient Uruha was feeling at the time, he’d sit Aoi down maybe once every two weeks or so and paint his nails for him, because Uruha knew Aoi wasn’t going to do it himself.   
Uruha’s hand is shaking as he sets Aoi’s left hand on the table and goes for his right. Aoi isn’t sure why.   
He also isn’t sure why having perfectly manicured nails was such a big deal. Everyone else in the band always had theirs done, minus Kai. Perfectly done nails were an odd thing to be demanding about. Aoi figured that, since he played guitar, which already kind of fucked up his hands, that his nails wouldn’t be a major priority. But here Uruha was, busting out the black polish every time some of it flaked off.   
“Seriously, quit moving. You’re making it more difficult.”   
“I’m not moving, Uru. it’s you, your hands are shaking.”   
“Like fuck it is. My hands never shake.” Uruha replies, rolling his eyes.   
“Don’t be so sure.”   
Uruha makes a dismissive noise and goes back to hyperfocusing on Aoi’s nails. He inspects them before painting them, a mild sneer of disgust crossing his face when he spots a place Aoi’s chewed at. Aoi isn’t sure why or when he started biting his nails, but it irks Uruha every time. The few instances where Uruha has been grossed out enough by Aoi’s nail-biting resulted in a many-hours long manicure where Uruha was hell-bent on fixing every little bit. When Aoi didn’t bother to stop, Uruha didn’t bother to continue.   
Bit of a shame, really. Aoi did kind of enjoy Uruha paying attention to him like that.   
“Why are your hands shaking so much?” Aoi asks. Uruha sneers again. Aoi once made the comment that Uruha’s face was naturally drawn to a sneer, which only made Uruha glare daggers at him.   
Aoi didn’t think he was wrong.   
“They aren’t. My hands are not shaking.”   
“They are. I can tell. You think I can’t feel your hands twitching?”   
“You are sorely mistaken if you think my hands are shaking.”   
“Is it because you’re touching my hands? Cause if it is, that’s cute.”   
Uruha splutters, looking at Aoi indignantly. “I don’t… I would never-”  
“Save the protesting. Your hands are usually all jittery when you’re painting my nails.”   
“They are not.”   
“See, look! They’re shaking right now!” Aoi pointed out, looking at Uruha’s hand twitch. The bracelet hanging low on his wrist rattled against the table.   
“If you wanted to hold my hand, you could’ve just told me.” Aoi says, only half-teasing. Uruha is a pale shade of pink now, and Aoi knows that if his ears were visible, they’d be bright red. Solely to make a point, Aoi slides his arm across the table, intertwining their fingers.   
Aoi knows Uruha has had a schoolboy crush on him for a long time, and Aoi would be hard-pressed to say he didn’t feel the same. Sitting across from each other at a table holding hands is probably the dorkiest, cheesiest thing he’s done in a while, but he doesn't mind being dorky or cheesy if it’s because of Uruha.   
“I uh, I think your nails are dry.” Uruha says, an hour later. Aoi smiles at him.   
“Yeah. They were dry twenty minutes ago. I just like holding your hand.”   
Uruha sputters a little as Aoi rubs his thumb across Uruha’s knuckles.   
If this was how painting his nails would end more often, maybe Aoi would pay even less attention to them. Aoi was a bit of an attention whore when it came to Uruha, after all.   
They sat together like that for a while before they had to leave for their next flight out.


End file.
